Work Text:
Lestrade loved his job. Genuinely he did. It was just sometimes, not all the time but sometimes, it was a pain in the arse and he wanted to pack it all in and go live in a villa in Spain for the rest of his days. Today was one such day.
The one year anniversary of Moriarty’s failed attempt to enslave John and take over the village was coming up and patrols had been stepped up to twice the usual frequency in case anyone tried to do anything stupid like recreating the stunt. Although this seemed like a simple take; scan the area, patch up any holes appearing in the new force fields put up which alerted to anyone stepping into the village’s immediate area and generally make sure nothing looked suspicious. However, most patrols seemed to go on forever and writing up the reports was so dull many either wrote them as quickly as possible and forgetting about them, or waited until they couldn’t put it off much longer.
Lestrade had no less than 3 reports to file; his superiors would be nagging him about setting a bad example if he didn’t hurry up. Luckily he had something to spur him on.
Finally, after weeks of thinking about it, he had gathered up his courage and asked Molly on a date. They’d become a lot closer since the Moriarty incident, both keeping in contact with John and generally talking a lot more. And if someone stayed a bit longer at the morgue than completely necessary, or a certain someone brought her section of the files personally rather than sending subordinate, then everyone pretended not to notice and kept quiet. But now it was organised and actually going to happen and Greg had honestly never felt more scared. He felt excited too, practically ecstatic but a large part of him was constantly reminding himself to not do anything stupid because you have a tendency to do that when you’re nervous, and don’t forget to fix up your hair and are you sure that’s not too formal and, and, and, until he felt like bashing his head against his desk in an effort to shut it up.
In fact he was so caught up in his own internal conflict that he jumped when his phone rang, making him jump. He glanced up and was glad to see his blinds were down, meaning no one would have seen him being an idiot.
“Hello Defender Lestrade speaking.”
“Ah, Lestrade, excellent,” replied a voice that Greg knew too well for his own liking. A voice that enjoyed making his life just that bit more difficult. A voice that shouldn’t even be ringing him.
“Sherlock, what the hell are you ringing my work phone for? How did you even get my number?” he grumbled.
“John does not guard his phone as much as you would like. Now I require your assistance.”
“Yeah, I’m a bit busy right now Sherlock. You know, working and all that,” Greg hinted. It was a futile effort but at least he could say he tried.
“But this is important. It’s for John,” Sherlock explained as if that was clearly a legitimate reason for interrupting someone. Which, thinking about it, in Sherlock’s world, it probably was.
Lestrade glanced at the paperwork. It had been a quiet day and Sally had been itching to get some more leadership experience and everyone still owed him for covering up that weekend...and if it wasn’t going to last all day.
“Right, you have my attention. What is it you want?”
***
“In green?”
“Yes, isn’t that what I said? Now hurry,” Sherlock sighed, handing him a paint brush and then running out the room.
“No, Sherlock, why-” Lestrade started but Sherlock had already gone.
How he ended up at Sherlock and soon to be John’s new flat with the instructions that the entirety of one of the rooms walls had to be done in varying shades of green was beyond him but here he was. He was so glad he’d thought to put on some old clothes. Although he didn’t know Sherlock as well, it didn’t take too much of a deductive leap to know that it was likely to get messy and/or dangerous at any point. There wasn’t a discernible starting point, so he started at one of the far corners and began to work his way round.
He hadn’t got far when the door crashed open and Sherlock, carrying a huge potted plant strode in, but he wasn’t alone.
“Yes, you can help Lestrade in here while I bring more things through,” he instructed over his shoulder to-
“Molly.”
Molly dropped the plant she was carrying but luckily Greg didn’t notice as he had dropped the paintbrush he had been holding and was too busy picking it up and trying not to blush.
“Oh, Greg! Um, hi,” she grinned shyly which he returned. They were interrupted by Sherlock’s elaborate sigh.
“Yes, very good. Now if you two can control yourselves from fawning over each other for two minutes-” he huffed before wheeling out of the room again.
“Does he ever finish a sentence?” Greg joked as Molly picked up a paintbrush of her own.
“No. I think he expects John to pick up the slack on that one. So, what are we doing?” she asked, looking curiously at the patch of wall already painted.
“Don’t ask why but Sherlock wants to wall green. That’s about the extent of the instructions from his highness so pick your favourite shade and we’ll work from there.”
***
As much as he bossed and huffed Sherlock was, deep down, grateful that Greg and Molly had agreed to help. He was almost 93% John would at least appreciate the gesture.
However, when he dragged up another big plant and he heard giggling behind the door, he was uncertain it was wise to leave the two of them unattended.
He cracked to door open slightly.
Ah.
It appeared that a paint war had broken out.
Part of Sherlock’s brain was interested to note that the wings were still clean but a larger part of him was seething.
“What do you two think you’re doing?” he demanded. Both paused in their current attack and turned to face him. They glanced over at each other. Then they burst into laughter.
“I don’t quite see what’s funny, I-” Sherlock was cut off as a large blob of paint landed on his shirt. Then another. Then another.
“Look fine!” he shouted, beating a hasty retreat. Let the children play their silly little game. He had other things to do anyway...
***
Molly caught Greg’s eye again and they couldn’t help giggling.
He had green in his hair and most of his body with random spots on his ears and she had streaks all over her arms and feet and an endearing blob on her nose which she hadn’t noticed.
It wasn’t quite the date he had planned, he thought as he pointed it out to her, causing her to blush in that incredibly sweet way of hers, but it went much better than expected.